


Light as a feather, strong as steel.

by DaiseeChain



Series: The Elementals [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-14
Updated: 2010-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 22:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaiseeChain/pseuds/DaiseeChain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was running away, but now he's found something better to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light as a feather, strong as steel.

**Author's Note:**

> **Written For:** [Crucio](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_uk_meetup/) giftbag  
>  **Recipient:** [](http://scabbyfish.livejournal.com/profile)[**scabbyfish**](http://scabbyfish.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Element:** Air  
> 

 

He ran and ran and ran. He ran till his throat felt like sandpaper and his lungs were tearing apart from the inside.

The tears wouldn’t stop and he’d long since given up trying to wipe the snot off his face. It just mixed with the salt-water and dribbled down his chin. Prob’ly all over his shirt, but he didn’t care about that. Couldn’t care about that.

  
If he ran far enough they’d stop following.

 

 

 

 

Sight blurry, he didn’t see the unearthed root till he stumbled over it and collapsed into a heap. He lay there, choking on dry sobs like a heaving bundle of rags. They were right. That’s all he was, just a bunch of raggedy clothes with rusty hair, not fit to be seen with. He should have known better than to try and play with them.

After a while his back protested about lying hunched over, so he straightened out a bit, dragging some of the dirt and twigs with him as he did. Who cared? Who cared about his stupid clothes or his stupid cloak. They were tatty anyway, so what did it matter if he ruined them?

If only he’d been old enough to Apparate. That would have learned ‘em. He could’ve snatched his broom back and jumped out of there leaving them all gaping. Or he could’ve flown, circling over their heads, swooping close enough to rain stink bombs down on them. If they hadn’t taken his broom, that was. If they hadn’t snatched it away and laughed at him he could have done that.

He knew why they stole it; he understood that part. He didn’t belong and they were putting him in his place. But breaking it? That bit was just plain mean. And they knew his parents didn’t have the money to buy him a new one. He was going to have ride alongside or behind for years now. Maybe even till the end of Hogwarts. That’d be embarrassing. Having to ask friends for a lift.

He sighed and rolled onto his back. Grimacing, he wiped his face clean with the backs of his hands, looked round for something to clean them on, gave up and wiped them on his dirty cloak. Wasn’t like Mum was going to be impressed anyways. She’d only yell at him about all the extra laundry.

It was all her fault anyways. If she hadn’t married his stupid Father none of this would have happened in the first place. If she’d married proper he’d have been one of The Blacks, and had money, and good clothes, and a decent broom, and his stupid cousin Lucius wouldn’t be able to hurt him because he’d have to be nice.

When he was older he’d be rich and powerful and make it so that Lucius would have to be nice to him. Even when he didn’t want to.

The sky was wide open, making him long for his broom. You could fly forever in skies like that, cold, clear, free. Now was the best moment, when the trees were turning to match his hair and he could camouflage himself in the canopy when he didn’t want to be found. The days were still light and warm enough that there was no chance of catching a chill, but the wind was picking up so you could get it behind you and fly further and faster and higher. Way, way away from The Burrow, all cramped and close, and full of chores needing doing. Way, way above the stupid bullies and their stupid games.

Something scritched near his head, and he glanced over to see a hare twitching its nose at his scent. Must be getting late if it was thinking of heading out from the safety of the nest. A rumbling whine came out of nowhere, and the hare leaped away to safety. Arthur wished he could do the same. The sound was odd, like nothing he’d heard before. He looked around for the source.

Finally, he realised it was coming from the open air above him. It was so astounding he just gaped at it, eyes wide, for several seconds. Then he propped himself up on his elbows, and lay there watching the thing fly overhead. It wasn’t natural, whatever it was. Nothing natural moved that way. Hoverflies, butterflies, pixies; they all moved zig-zaggy, never in straight lines. Whatever it was was man-made. How could that be?

The device reached the edge of the clearing, and Arthur scrabbled up to get a last view as it disappeared over the horizon. It left a trail of white cloud behind it, like breadcrumbs, enticing him to follow...

A loud POP startled him, and suddenly Billius was standing beside him looking bored and annoyed.

His brother rolled his eyes. “Here you are. We’ve been looking everywhere. Mum’s going mental! It’s well past tea time. Why didn’t you come home?”

“They took my broom.” Arthur shook his brother’s hand off his arm. “Never mind that now. What on earth is that?” He pointed at the dwindling machine.

“What? Where?” Following the direction of Arthur’s gaze, Billius peered and then shrugged. “Oh that. It’s an aeroplane.” He didn’t seem at all impressed.

“An arioplane?”

“Yeah. It’s what Muggles use because they don’t have brooms. Look, are you coming home, or do I have to tell Mum I couldn’t find you again?”

Arthur hesitated. Airo’s were shiny. They were marvellous. They required closer investigation. But staying would get Billius into trouble because Mum would know he was lying. As much of a pain as he was, his brother didn’t deserve that. “No, it’s okay. I’m coming.”

“Good.” Billius drew in breath, about to Disapparate.

“But you’ll need to Side me along or Accio me a broom or something. Lucius took mine.”

Billius rolled his eyes but said nothing. They both knew where they stood with the Malfoys. Grabbing Arthur’s arm, he muttered under his breath.

As he felt the tug inside his stomach of the start of a side-along, Arthur thought about Billius’ words. Muggles could fly in metal machines. They were safe up in the air and no one touched them. Lucius and his gang would never go near a muggle contraption. If he flew far enough in one, they’d stop following.

A second later there was nothing in the clearing but a few whirling leaves caught in an eddy, and a slowly vanishing trail of vapour.


End file.
